Hidden Wings
by Jade Johanson
Summary: Based on the prompt "dude, you have wings. I thought you were just really into trench coats," though it took on a life of its own. Wing!fic. Set somewhere in season 5, though no spoilers for that season really.


**AN: So guys. Good news. I'm into Supernatural now. And I wrote a fic for sometime in Season 5, but no spoilers for that season. Also, if you review (and please do) no spoilers past My Bloody Valentine. I mean I've heard most of all you could spoil, but I would rather save the details. :) Anyway, hope you enjoy. There is unashamed fluff in this. I don't normally do fluff, but... Fluff. I own nothing but my own storyline.**

Dean picked up the phone, dialing Cas' number from memory.

Cas' gravelly voice picked up on the other line.

"Dean. What's wrong?"

"Nothing Cas we just need some help investigating some possible omens-"

"Where are you?"

"Blue Moon Motel, Room 39-"

"I'm here." Cas said automatically, appearing with a rustle of wings in front of Dean.

Dean flinched.

"Damn it, Cas I thought I told you not to surprise me like that!"

"I apologize," Cas said, stepping back slightly. "What do you need?"

"We've found some strange omens," Sam cut in. "They don't seem to be the normal demonic omens either; no lightning storms or anything to that effect, more horseman level- Cas, are those feathers?"

Sam stopped to gawk at the bottom of Cas' trench coat where black- feathers?- were slowly drifting down to form a small pile on the floor.

Dean followed Sam's gaze.

"What the-?"

Cas shrank under the brothers' gaze, looking like he was about to fly off, but before he could, Dean's hands were tearing off his trenchcoat.

Cas gave a yelp of surprise and pain as two huge black and grey wings manifested themselves.

"Dude, you have wings. Like, wing wings."

"Yes, Dean, of course I have wings," Cas said, slightly exasperated.

"I guess the holy tax accountant getup isn't entirely for show, is it," Dean smirked.

Cas just glared.

"But what's with all the feathers?" Sam asked, confused, "And why did you yelp when Dean took your trenchcoat off?"

"I am in molt," Cas explained, "It is- more comfortable for my wings to be manifested as the feathers are replaced, but they are hard to hide in this human vessel. And the trenchcoat is- cramped."

"Dude," Dean said, "Your wings are, like, ginormous. How do they FIT?"

"Very, very painfully," Cas grimaced.

"Anything we can do?" Sam asked.

"Nothing," Cas said quickly, and a little doubtfully, picking up his trenchcoat from the floor where Dean had thrown it. "Now what about these omens."

"Whoa, dude," Dean cut in, "Are you just going to put that trenchcoat back on? We're pretty safe here. Why not stretch them out a little?"

"Dean, I appreciate your concern, but this happens every year. I'm used to it by now."

"Are you sure there isn't anything we can do?" Sam asked, still concerned.

Cas sighed. "In heaven, during molt, we would have another angel- speed up the process, help get rid of the extra feathers. But as I am cut off from heaven, I don't see any other options. So I am fine," Cas practically growled.

"Couldn't we do that as well?" Sam asked.

"I can do it myself," Cas mumbled.

"Dude, your wings fill up the whole room," Dean said, "I don't think your arms are that long."

Cas looked back and forth between the brothers.

"Very well," he conceded, but he still seemed uncomfortable.

"We're not gonna hurt you, man," Dean replied to his uncomfortable expression. "Just tell us what to do."

"Run your hand along the wing, and when you feel a loose feather, just pull it out," Cas explained, settling on his stomach on the bed.

But when Dean reached for his left wing, Cas' wing twitched, nearly bowling Dean over.

"Whoa, buddy, how long has it been since someone's done this properly?" Dean asked.

"Maybe- a century?" Cas said. "I haven't really had occasion for leisure."

"But don't your wing muscles get at least tight, like a human's?" Sam asked. "With all the flying you do?"

"Yes," Cas mumbled.

"Damn it Cas, next time you need this done, just let us know," Dean said, "Even we have to take a break sometimes."

Dean slowly lowered his hand to the wing again, and this time Cas' flinch was less violent, and he ever gave a shudder of pleasure as Dean ran his hand gently over the wing, feeling for imperfections, and straightening the feathers with a nearly practiced hand.

Sam began, tentatively, to do the same on the other side, and gradually Cas relaxed completely.

By the time they were done, the angel was out, and they just sat there, waiting for their angel to wake up again.

Because even celestial beings need a little down time.

 **Review please?**

 **(Also, yes, his wings are huge, and no, they probably shouldn't be able to fit all that comfortably, but I'm pretty sure Cas could maneuver reality at least a little so his wings could fit on the physical plane. Just my theory.)**


End file.
